I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

Chapter 94: A Basic Introduction to Potions

Like his predecessors, Forem did not press Ivan further about his absurd drug resistance.

Ultimately, the extraordinary world is full of all sorts of weirdos.

A kid with a slight drug resistance wouldn't even qualify as a basic model in this bunch of oddities.

"Doctor, I feel like I'm frighteningly smart right now."

Evan shook his head and said with curiosity.

"Let's learn something."

Forem laughed and said, "Of course you should learn. This potion was originally prepared for you."

He said this as he sat back down in his chair.

"You have classes to attend, and I have my own research projects to work on. Given your current schedule, it's impossible for you to truly be my assistant."

"Luckily, you only want to learn how to make potions, so from now on, you only need to study with me for four hours a week."

.

"With the aid of the Mind-Concentrating Potion, your progress will be much faster than that of a normal person."

Ivan nodded repeatedly, his face beaming with excitement.

"it is good."

Forem didn't lay out his notebook or flip through any books; he simply began to speak.

"First, you need to understand one thing."

"The principle behind magic potions is completely different from that of conventional medicines."

"Conventional drugs affect our flesh and organs, but magic potions truly influence our spirit."

"So the first step in making a potion is to figure out what kind of expectations you have for this potion."

He habitually tapped the black notebook on the table with the nib of his pen, as if he were highlighting important points for his students.

"Let's look at it from another angle."

"The properties of conventional drugs are fixed; they are what they are and won't change because of your thoughts. Many drug effects are so complex that you can't even definitively say whether they are positive or negative."

"But potions are different. Potions are controlled by the subjective will of the alchemist."

Ivan unconsciously straightened his back a little.

"Huh? You can do that?"

Forem nodded and said, "Yes, so the first requirement for brewing potions is to be sufficiently focused."

"You need to hold onto that hope in your heart and let it correct the course of the potion's effects."

"Of course, we can't be so extreme. This doesn't mean that you can make potions just by thinking about it."

"Subjective expectations only account for about five percent of the entire process; they merely provide a vague outline of a direction, a vision."

At that moment, Evan felt as if the clouds had parted and the sun was shining through.

He finally understood what Professor Byron's bottle of blood-burning potion had meant.

From his own physical perspective, it should have been a negative effect, so why was he able to bypass the side effect detection of the Nine Dragons Power?

Because that's what the potion maker hoped for.

Forem continued, "Next, I'll talk about the principle behind potions. As I mentioned earlier, potions affect our spirituality."

"The spiritual and the physical are bound together, so the spiritual will ultimately influence the physical in turn."

"But the core side effects of magic potions are not the same as those of regular drugs, such as decreased bodily sensitivity or drug addiction."

His eyes gave a serious warning.

"The essence of the potion's side effects is that it depletes your spirituality, which is to say, your life."

Ivan quickly jotted down the words in his mind.

Forem gave him a few seconds to think before speaking again.

"Speaking of which, we should first talk about the ingredients of the potion."

"Potions consist of three parts: main ingredient, auxiliary ingredient, and buffer."

He held up three fingers: "The main ingredients all come from the organs, tissues, or some extraordinary properties of the monsters."

"The auxiliary materials are things that are inherently mysterious: clay, poisonous mushrooms, blood, gemstones, various metals, coffin wood—"

"As for the buffer, it's for the user's protection. It slows down the onset of side effects, giving us time to adjust."

Upon hearing this, Evan vaguely understood why the potion was so incredibly toxic.

The list of auxiliary ingredients alone is quite substantial.

Coffin wood, poisonous mushrooms—neither of these are decent things.

Following up on this point, Forem continued, "Once you understand the ingredients, you'll know why potions are so expensive."

"Monster organs and tissues are not cheap to begin with; a Hilichurl scalp used to make brutal potions can cost up to ten dollars."

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

Ten dollars is enough for a poor family on Guding Street to live on for half a month.

"And the buffer that protects us is completely monopolized by the Healing Church."

Forem's tone was not judgmental, but it carried a hint of dissatisfaction.

"The essence of that thing is a kind of holy oil that has undergone special sanctification, which can greatly protect our spirituality from the erosion of our bestial nature."

"A dose of buffer for a potion typically costs around five dollars."

17

Upon hearing this, Ivan couldn't help but click his tongue.

"Why do I feel like there's not much difference between superhumans and normal people?"

Forem narrowed his eyes and earnestly warned, "Young man."

"Don't think too highly of yourself. Always remember that no matter how much power we have, we are still just human beings."

"Otherwise, you are destined to be consumed by your own arrogance and hubris."

Ivan sat up straight and nodded seriously.

He had heard similar things from Richard and Armitage.

The three people had different voices and spoke different words, but the weight and meaning behind their words were almost identical.

Seeing that he was listening, Forem softened his tone and continued speaking.

"Now you understand the nature of the potion's toxicity."

"Its essence is the lingering bestiality within the organs and tissues of demons, a continuous attack on our own spirituality."

Evan asked tentatively.

"—Isn't there any way to purify or cleanse it?"

Forem sighed.

"Once it's purified, it's useless."

"What we want is that bit of bestiality within them."

"what?"

Evan was stunned; the situation was not what he had expected!

Seeing his clearly confused expression, Forem slowly explained.

"The potion's enhancement effect can be broken down into two parts."

"The first aspect is the inherent properties of the material itself, which provide us with external enhancement."

"The second part is to use the wisp of bestiality within the potion to suppress our spiritual protective control over our body's instincts, allowing the body to unleash more potential to cooperate with the sudden increase in external power."

He drew a simple arc in the air.

"Only by combining the two sides can we achieve significant improvement in a short period of time."

Evan had finally figured out the whole story behind the potion.

He lowered his head and thought for a few seconds, then looked up and asked.

"Which part of my Witcher's poison resistance can neutralize?"

Forem smiled.

"It will be all right."

"The black blood in your bodies, the witchers, contains a buffer-like component that can counteract the side effects of the potion."

"The conventional toxicity from the additives, as well as the toxicity from the monster's own bestial nature, can be partially metabolized by you."

"Depending on the lineage of different Witcher lineages, the toxicity accumulated by Witchers using potions is approximately one-fiftieth to one-fortieth of that of other professions."

""

Ivan nodded knowingly.

"Doctor, please continue."

For the rest of the time, Forem went through the basic operations of potion making with him from beginning to end.

The details to pay attention to during the refining process, the glassware to be used, the material of the crucible, and the specific specifications of the silver spoon.

Several magic circles and runes to be drawn on the ground in advance, and precautions to take when removing impurities.

The subtle differences in the heat during distillation mean which main ingredient is best processed after dark and which must be distilled in the first rays of sunlight.

In short, the content is massive, and the knowledge points are so densely packed that there are almost no gaps.

Fortunately, Ivan's mental strength, which was already 3.6, combined with the 300% boost from the Mind-Concentrating Potion, made his mind function like a high-speed computer.

He memorized almost every word Forem said in an instant, and then slowly categorized them.

Finally, Forem took a sip of the now-cold tea.

"By the way! The essence of potions is somewhat similar to rituals."

"It can also receive certain blessings associated with the ritual."

"If you become skilled in rituals in the future, you should be able to pick it up quickly."

Upon hearing this, Ivan couldn't help but smirk, but he forcibly suppressed it.

The effects of the mind-calming potion slowly wore off, and it was already 7:30.

Looking up at the grandfather clock hanging on the wall, the view outside the window was already completely different.

Late autumn nights come early, and the streetlights are already lit one by one, bringing a touch of warmth to the cold autumn night.

Ivan stood up and gave a proper bow.

"Thank you for your explanation, Doctor."

Forem nodded: "I already know from that letter that you are very capable."

"However, we should still be cautious about the potion matter."

"I won't give you the specific potion recipe today. Come over this weekend and I'll guide you through your first attempt at making it."

Ivan smiled and agreed, bowed again, turned around, opened the door, and walked slowly away down the corridor.

The office door closed again.

Forem gazed at the closed door and sighed softly.

"This young man is really quite good."

"If it's good—then become a part of us."

Suddenly, a purple head with no facial features, but only a huge eyeball, slowly bulged out from the right side of Forem's neck.

The single pupil swirled under the lamplight, its pupil reflecting the departing figure of Evan, and emitted a thick, greedy sound.

Immediately afterwards, another red head popped out from Forem's left shoulder.

That head had no eyes and no nose.

The places that should have been for facial features were now covered with densely packed, uneven fangs.

Each one was slightly curled outwards, looking ferocious and terrifying.

"Kill! Kill!"

That blood-red maw roared madly.

"Kill all those who are better than us! Make them all part of us!"

"Shut up!"

Forem's gentle face suddenly darkened, and he sternly rebuked them, stretching out his hands and forcefully pressing down the two heads on either side.

But in that very instant...

The muscles in his own face began to change violently and erratically.

One moment it's anger.

One moment it's greed.

One moment it's rational anxiety.

Each expression lingered on his face for only half a second before being brutally replaced by the next.

The core weakness of virtuous people: a split personality on a material level.

One soul splits into several personalities, all vying for the same body.

Each personality desires more physical bodies.

When Evan finally returned to Guding Street on the tram, his pocket watch showed 8:30.

He jumped out of the car and turned into the familiar Bee Restaurant at the street corner.

At this hour, most of the round tables in the shop were empty, leaving only two dockworkers chatting quietly in a corner over a jug of whiskey.

Evan ordered a large portion of stewed beef, one and a half loaves of dark bread, plus three tomatoes, for thirty cents. He wiped the broth clean with the bread as usual.

When he got home, he casually tossed his schoolbag onto the table but didn't turn on the light right away.

In the dark corner of the stairwell, a nest of newly moved-in rats, barely settled in, were attacked by a brass-colored spike from his secondary brain—

The middle finger wiped them out cleanly and efficiently.

The whole family's warm rat blood quickly entered his stomach.

A hearty meal and plenty of blood!

Evan leaned against the edge of the bed and took a breath, suddenly remembering Uncle Parker's face covered in thick bandages by the dock.

"Now I have enough ability!"

Ivan then didn't change his clothes, put on his hat, and went straight downstairs to the dock area.

The dock area remains bustling even at night.

Kerosene chandeliers hung in a row along the pier, their dim light barely illuminating the surroundings.

Ivan walked through the busy workers and arrived at the entrance of Bryce Transportation Company.

My keen eyesight spotted Parker crouching on the steps outside the company.

At that moment, he was tightly covering his mouth with an old handkerchief.

He was supporting himself on his knee with his other hand, breathing heavily.

"Keep up the good work, everyone."

The sound came out muffledly from the handkerchief, accompanied by a hissing sound from the trachea.

"Ahem—hurry up, everyone—"

Standing about 20 meters away, Evan could clearly see in just one glance how much Parker's injury had worsened in a day.

The nose, which was originally a pale reddish-brown, now had a necrotic purplish-black tinge.

The other half of his face was still wrapped in the previous gauze, but now it was completely soaked with pus.

After coughing twice, Parker struggled to his feet.

The new foreman next to him was about to lend a hand, but then seemed to remember something and took two steps back with a look of disgust.

"Hey, boss Parker, you're so sick, why don't you go to the clinic?"

The young man probed, half-jokingly.

"Don't worry, if you're too tired, just go and rest. I won't take your place in the next couple of days."

Upon hearing this, Parker suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes widening as he shouted hoarsely.

"I'm perfectly fine, it's just a common cold!"

After saying that, he took out a palm-sized paper bag from his coat pocket.

He poured out a few white pills that were already sticky with sweat, and without saying a word, stuffed them into his mouth and chewed them dry.

pain!

Every inch of my body aches.

It hurts in the gaps between my bones, it hurts under my fingernails, and even the base of my tongue hurts.

But he didn't dare ask for leave.

Countless eyes were fixed on this spot.

Every man making a living at this dock wants to move up a rank, to have a respectable job with wages, the right to sign contracts, and no need to carry sacks every day.

He would rather die than let go.